Monday, September 3, 2012

Cougars and Cubs Guest Post by Willsin Rowe and Katie Salidas

Now, I’m not going to say I’m old enough to be a cougar. (I
believe I qualify as a Puma, but don’t think of asking my age. A lady never
tells.) I do, however, appreciate the charms of a… ahem… more youthful
man. I’m guilty of oogling younger
gentlemen like Taylor Lautner, a man more than 10 years my junior. Hey, even we
married women can look, right?

And looking around, there are so many hot young things in
the spotlight. Yummy!

But why do we more experienced ladies look to the younger
man?

I think there is something to be said for the disparity of
age in sexual peaks between women and men. We women tend to peak later, while
men enjoy theirs at the ripe age of 18. Which means for the Puma, or Cougar,
its natural selection. It’s almost as if nature wants us to look to the younger
man.

A younger man is not just attractive for his physical
appearance. Having all that energy and ability to “go all night,” they are also
generally more willing to take the time to please their woman… if they know the
how, what, and where. In our youth (both men and women alike) we don’t often
know how to communicate our desires and needs. However, with age and
experience, you learn. A cougar can take advantage of this, really direct her
young stud, and teach him exactly how to please her.

You can only imagine the mind-blowing sex that must result
from a pairing like this. *evil grin*

And that’s where Patience comes in.

It’s a wonderful sexual fantasy; being the one to catch that
hot younger man. He’s headstrong and cocky, with a hard body at its sexual
peak. Even though he is more than capable, he’s still a little wet behind the
ears and willing to try new things. Yummy! Oh how I’d like to be the one to
teach him the ropes. And that right there is what makes it such a fun fantasy.

In a culture that seems more insistent than ever that youth
is everything, what is it about the sexy older woman that gets the pulse of a
young man racing?

Well, of course, I can’t speak for all men, so I’ll speak
for myself. I’m sure it has roots in the fact that most boys grow up basking in
the love of an older woman. So I guess there’s potentially something a little
Oedipal in it. Then there are the teachers you form crushes on, too.

But it’s obviously much more than that. An older woman is
usually more independent and self-confident. She’s had the attention of men for
20 years, maybe longer. She is a more powerful being than she was when she was
25.

And that’s a huge factor.

See, being a man comes with its own set of expectations.
Different from, but equal to, the expectations women feel. Being a man means
you’re expected to be in control. Financial control. Physical control.
Emotional control. But when you’re 24, you’re still trying to find out how life
works. How fast you can run, how hard you can hit. Figuratively and literally.

A woman of 40, say, has almost certainly ridden shotgun on
that particular journey of self-discovery at least once. She knows how brittle
a young man is. He’s strong – very strong – until he’s not. Then he’s powder.

Being with an older woman offers a young man the chance to
relinquish that show of power. Because she knows it’s a show. That he has very
little idea what he’s doing for 90% of the time. He’s more willing to be guided
by someone in a position of power. And by the age of 40, most women know how to
speak to men.

Paradoxically, an older woman offers a young man the chance
to prove his power. To use a very male analogy, a boxer cannot become world
champion without beating the current world champion. Men do that. They need to
conquer, and so shape their experiences to fit that world view. Everything
becomes a competition of some kind.

With all the wiles that a sexy cougar has in her armory, she
is a worthy opponent. And a young man knows how hard he has to work to gain her
approval.

Thankfully, most men love a challenge!

Patience may be a
virtue, but the reward is sin! 5,000 word
short erotic story.

He slipped his hand onto my thigh. “How can I when you’re
right here?”

I bit my lip and squeezed my legs together. “Stop…” It was
barely a whisper, not convincing at all. He had such big hands they were
impossible to ignore. Especially sliding up my leg like that.

I clamped my hand over his. “No, Edan. We have to get back
to the office. We have another pitch tomorrow.”

He dug his fingers in, a needless show of strength. With a
puff of disgust he pulled back and turned away. “Fine. Then maybe tomorrow
you’ll let me drive.” He shucked out another mint and ground it to death.

“Oh, act your fucking age, Edan.” Jesus. I sound like I’m
his mother. I started the car and mashed out my frustration on the gas pedal.

We drove back in man-made silence. Before I’d even turned
off the engine Edan had his door open, ready to storm upstairs and broadcast
our failure. To distance himself from the stink of it. I curled my fingers
around his arm.

“Wait.”

He pulled loose from my tenuous grasp and flounced out of
the car. I turned off the engine and rushed after him, my clattering heels
echoing off the concrete ceiling of the parking garage.

“Edan, stop!”

The touch of my hand on his shoulder seemed to calm him a
little. He stopped and let me turn him around. I felt like his mother again as
I pressed him back against the wall. In my heels I was almost eye-to-eye with
him. Or would be, if he’d look at me.

“You still have so much to learn, boy.”

“Don’t call me boy. I’m 24 years old.”

“In every way possible.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Look, we need to present a united front. Yes, we
probably lost the pitch. But those people up there rely on me, and now you, to
bring business in. They need to believe in us.”

“Then untie the apron strings! Let me take more control.”

I rested my hand against his chest. Even through the thick
wool of his suit, I fancied I could feel the heat of his skin, and I nearly
lost my train of thought. “This is not the time for that discussion, Edan.”

“It never is.”

“Stop. I mean it, this is not the time. We need to radiate
calm, give off a positive vibe. Can you do that?”

He shook his head and puffed out a resigned chuckle. Finally
his cool eyes met mine. “Maybe. What’s it worth to you?”

The warmth of his hand was all too real as he cupped the
fullness of my breast through my blouse. I’d been so focused on his eyes I
hadn’t seen him move. My breath tripped up as he squeezed my hardening nipple.

“Edan…” The simple urgency of my own voice sounded like a
betrayal. With my hand over his I rested my head on his chest, just to take the
weight off my untrustworthy knees. With my eyes closed and the heat of his body
against me it was easy to forget he was born the year I finished school.

Suddenly he was all hands and breath, all heat and muscle,
and lord, did it feel good. I clutched at his belt for balance and he pushed
his mouth onto mine.

In accordance with the new FTC Guidelines for blogging and endorsements, Kiki Howell of An Author's Musings, would like to advise that in addition to purchasing my own books to review, I also receive books, and/or promotional materials, free of charge in return for an honest review, as do any guest reviewers.